Tall Tales and the Truth of It
by Immicolia
Summary: The story of the Daedalus Bridge has always been Crow's favourite, but the city isn't quite as magical once he finally sees it up close. AU-ish. Very vaguely implied Jack x Yusei x Crow.


When Crow was small, the story of the Daedalus Bridge was his favourite and every night before bed he'd bounce around and beg and plead to hear it again until Martha ultimately told him to shush and sit still or there wouldn't be a story at all. Not that she ever followed through with that threat, but then again, she never needed to. That simple statement alone more than enough to calm him down and he'd sit silently in wide-eyed rapture. Even when Jack would complain about how he was sick of that story and wanted to hear something new.

Truth be told, it's _still_ his favourite. It's why he built the Black Bird the way he did. It's why whenever one of the kids asks to hear it he'll happily oblige because god knows he loves to tell it now just as much as he loved hearing it back then. Even knowing it as fact, even living in the bridge's shadow, there always seemed to be something magical about it. There being nights where, if he was feeling just whimsical enough, he'd sit on the dock and squint towards the horizon, studying the shimmering glow of the city in the distance and he could almost believe that, yes, it was a magical place where dreams do come true and maybe that man did manage to fly his D-wheel there.

It's different from the other side though.

Wrapped up in one of Jack's robes (which is _far_ too big on him) and staring out a window that is probably twice the size of one of his walls back home. Looking down at the glare of streetlights and neon that never turns off and the whole damn thing just feels uncomfortable and wrong.

Crow doesn't belong here. More importantly, he _knows_ he doesn't belong here.

Yusei does. Yusei was born to this shit, even if he lost his parents way too young to ever remember any it. And Jack, Jack's arrogant enough to fake it perfectly. The fact that he spent two years as Duel King, smack dab in the public eye with no one being the wiser of his less than noble beginnings more than proof enough of that.

Crow is arrogant too, but it's a different sort of arrogant. A rough and tumble "fuck the world and everyone in it" sort of chip on his shoulder that may have worked while facing off against rival duel gangs in Satellite but here, in a sprawling mansion staring down on everything, makes him feel like some kind of a bratty child howling for attention.

He needs to go home.

And it's one thing to _say_ that home is wherever Yusei is -- and Jack too, now that they're all together again --and maybe to some extent Crow does believe it. But it's also been too many years apart that the edges where they used to fit together so perfectly don't quite mesh anymore. Jack was King. Yusei _is_ King. They're both Signers whatever the hell that means in the long run once all this life-threatening bullshit is over and done with. And Crow is....

Crow is Crow; a criminal with a marked-up face who couldn't even walk down one of those shining streets without being stared at and hassled. He's seen the tabloid stories that have popped up since Yusei was crowned and _he's_ only got one marker. Crow would probably terrify the populace.

Plus he has responsibilities. Those kids depend on him to keep them safe and sheltered and fed and it eats at him to be away from the brats. Even though he knows Rally and the rest are probably keeping an eye on them. And that, even though Yusei never asked, he's needed here. With them. If only to be there for them to hold on to.

Even still, when Jack comes out of the bedroom, frowning, and murmurs, "What are you doing up?" Crow doesn't look at him. His eyes still focused on the glaring city lights as he huddles a little deeper into the fabric wrapped around him and his voice a bare whisper when he says, "I need to go home." The words, "I don't belong here," unvoiced but heavy in the air between them all the same.

Jack says nothing, simply curling an arm around Crow's shoulders to usher him back to bed. And Crow can't help but smile, knowing that the rest of the night will be spent (wordlessly) trying to convince him otherwise.


End file.
